Saturday, May 30, 2009

saturday doldrums

It's Saturday and I'm bored. It's a beautiful day outside, but there's nobody to share it with. Days like this leave me trying to forget that I am alone. Trying to forget the one I still love, but have walked away from. Saturdays have brought me to the bottom of several bottles, hours in front of the telvesion, and a lot of lonely walks on the tracks. Anyway, today I am planted in front of the boob-tube, learning how to present myself as a model. Well, that is, if I were actually debuing on "America's Next Top Model." You gotta love these marathon thingies. 

Well, the real point of this post is that during one of the shoots, one model had to pose as the over-emotional cryer at an awards ceremony. She was having a lot of trouble expressing her emotions, and the host guy asked her what she was afraid of. Well, I of course, don't have any troubles crying. My mom always used to say that I would cry at the drop of a hat. Crying is not what made me think; it was the question. "What are you afraid of?" 

I started to think. What am I afraid of? I am afraid that I will never be good enough. I am afraid that I am defined by my failures. I'm afraid that my errors are the real me, and the good things I have done are the flukes. I can't tell you how afraid I am that nobody will ever love me. I didn't realize it, but I think these fears are crushing me. I live under the constant pressure that my fears are not to be dismissed, but rather the truth. I never realized that I was afraid. When I think of fear, I think of something irrational. But my thoughts seem very real. I do realize that my fears may be unfounded or untrue, but they are very real to me. The thing is, now I don't know what to do. How do I disspell fears? Everything I think about myself seems so true. 

I've been trying to get back into the habit of reading the Bible every day, but many times it doesn't seem real to me. I don't know what to study. But my mama told me... you better shop around (oh wait, that's not what she told me!) She actually told me to study something that interests you, something that you are facing in your life. I didn't know before. I hadn't thought about it, but now that I know, I can start. I just never  thought that fears were something I struggled with. I don't know where to start. I don't know what the Bible says about fears. Well, you know what they say: the joy is in the journey.

just another manic... friday

Ok, so that's not how the song goes, but really, Monday's are not that bad in the HR life. Well, at least in my HR life. I don't know how other people's HR lives are, but mine is... um, well... I forgot what I was talking about. But nevermind. That's what happens after a manic Friday. You see, apparently Friday is the best day to quit your job. Without notice. At 4:30, just 1/2 hour before the office closes. Never mind that there are reams of paperwork that go along with terminations ("terms" as we call them in the HR world. lol). I can hear the HR director's voice echoing in my head now, "Make sure he signs off on that." Paperwork is our way of covering our butts.

So anyway, there were 9 terms today, 3 of which showed up at or later than 4:25. I now know why there is a monstrous counter separating me and the people I serve. Its not for my protection, no. Nor is it to keep employee information private. Nor is it so that not everybody can see that I am really not "working," per se, but instead checking my facebook. Those reasons are good, but they have nothing to do with the counter. The mamoth counter is there in order to protect "problem employees." You know, the ones who, were it not for the akwardly large and poorly designed counter, would have otherwise been strangled by my scrappy (a description coined originally by Jessica. thanks, Jess) hands.

Anyway, the good news is that there was somebody who kept me out of the throws of maddness today, and that was the new (cue angel choir) summer intern. Yes, Summer Intern, kept me from leaping ontop of my desk in utter defiance of the counter, and strangling, despite all taboos about harmful physical contact between coworkers. She is fast learning the tasks of my job, and she even caught up my filing in 2 days. I reapeat, two days!!! That's enough to make me sing "Oh Happy Day." And just ask Mama W, I don't sing "Oh Happy Day" for just any occasion.

So this story has a good ending. I was out of the plant by 5:20ish. Good timing, considering the three miscreants who decided to show their faces, along with locker cleanout paperwork at my counter a mere half hour before office-locking time. (Oh, and don't take that miscreant language too harshly. I actually like two of the people who quit today pretty well--even despite the fact that I went out with one of thier husband's nephews and he turned out to be quite the... well, no FCC-approved words come to mind, but yeah, not good. And in defense of the other quitter, I didn't even know him.)

So, although I still wish it were Sunday, cuz that's my fun-day, I think I can safely say that I have survived yet another "Manic Friday." Now, don't blame me when that almost chart-topping (#2 in the US and UK in 1986), popular hit song from a group that coined their name after the popular chunky bracelets that found their way out of and recently back into style* is stuck in your heard for the next 2.34 days. I claim no responsibility.

*you too can learn useless information about annoyingly catchy tunes. information learned at:

Wednesday, May 27, 2009

unfaithful lover

I swear, if you could attribute a gender to the seasons, summer would most definately be a man. He is the most unfaithful lover. He comes and then he goes. One night he's all inviting and intimate, the next night he's sending an icy breeze in your direction. (hmmm... don't look now, but that sounds more like a PMS-y woman) I'm also choosing not to recognize the last statement that was made, and continue to say that summer is a bi-polar male lover. 

Of course, the real problem with this whole scenario is that it is still May. This fact just blows my whole tyrade out of the water. Being as its still May, it means that it is not officially summer at all, but, in fact, still spring. But... but the other night it was summer... It was summer in my heart, and that's what really matters! Right?

Wow, I just realized that this fell to a new level. Not only is summer (which is not actually summer) my unfaithful lover, he is also not here but here, but only because I feel that way. I am starting to sound even more like the stereotypical "woman" about whom men talk. You know, in the exact way in which I am stereotypically talking about "men," or in this instance, summer, who is a man. OMGosh! Did you understand that? Maybe, if you are an understanding woman (if anybody even reads this! and that's a big if) you will know exactly what I just said. Otherwise, I don't expect anybody to understand. (Except for summer of course. He must understand and act accordingly--or at least pretend like he understands.)

Oh well. Suffice it to say, summer is in the doghouse right now. He's not really sure why, because he's not here yet, but do I ever know! He knows too, but only because I'm already mad at him. The reason for my tantrum will never be understood by him, but he does know that the only way out is with flowers and chocolates. But not too many chocolates, or I will eat them all and feel fat. And THAT will put him back in the doghouse. Oh, and by flowers and chocolates I really mean warm breezes and sunshiney days (with a few picture clouds). He is also expected to be able to interpret that. Well, I just read the forecast for tomorrow and its calling for a high of 76, which might just get him out of the doghouse, but not back in the bedroom. Seventy-six is good enough for sleeping on the couch. It's a start. A small one, but still, a start. 

Tuesday, May 26, 2009

danger: next blog>>

I can't stop clicking... Next blog, next blog, next blog. Wow, I can't even read that one. SKIP! Hmmmm... She makes dresses... Wow, just like the real thing! ...losing interest and MOVING ON. Ohh, the Wilson's bought a new cat. Who are the Wilson's? I don't know! Does that matter? NEXT! Aw, Kelly and Jason's little Payton is so cute. Look how he rolls over for the camera. Drooley little guy... So when are they getting back from China? Wait, why are they in China? I can't find it in here. Archives? No, Kelly and Jason and I were never that close, especially considering that I just met them TODAY! Next blog>> Is that German? Hmmm... How many words do I know in German? Ich. That means "I." Ich think. Eins, Zvie, Drie... NEXT! Moody teenage girl... NEXT! More moody teens... Next Blog>> Next Blog>> Yea, pictures. Is that Pakistani? Who cares!? I see some English, but pictures! 

WAIT! Stop the madness! No more clicking! Go... to... sleep... Can't fight the click... Hmmmm... there's no link to the next blog on this one. Time for me to click one last time--on the X. Goodnight, Next Blog.

moonlight melodies

Maybe that should be the name of this blog, because I always seem to be writing this at a really late hour. As a matter of fact, I should be sleeping now, because I have to get up (on time) for work tomorrow. That means 6:20 or earlier. This morning was a disaster. You see, my alarm (really my cell phone, set to vibrate) broke the other day. I should say, I broke it. 

Ok, it all went down like this. My mom called (after a long, intense, GRRRR day at work). So I was already a little stressed. Then suddenly the call cut off. I tried to call her back. Nothing. Then she called me back. I couldn't answer. I called her. She called me. That theme repeats itself about 4 times until I get really frustrated and just chuck the phone across my car. It felt great... in the way that only instant regret can feel great. Hmph. So the vibrate function on my phone has not worked since. That wasn't such a big problem over Memorial Day weekend, but has become a problem now that I have a reason to get up early. 

That brings me back to today. In order to get to work on time, I need to leave no later than 7:20. Unfortunately, that is the exact hour in which I woke this morning. $#!T!! Then they were overbooked in the shower, so I had to wait. Also not good. The only thing that was good is that I set out my clothes the night before. Speaking of which, I should do that now. 

Anyway, you think for somebody who is as smrt as me, the coolege gradgueate, I would get up on time. Although, I don't think smarts have anything to do with it. It has more to do with hmmm... the amount of sleep one gets!? 

Well, this post is fast falling into the dark abyss of the rambling, uninteresting post. I will quit while I'm ahead and take some of my own medicine. I'M GOING TO BED! Good night world. Good night Jordan. Good night Moon. Good night old lady and bowl of mush. GOOD NIGHT MOUSE!!! 

Sunday, May 24, 2009

better late than never

Achievement. What a word! It smacks of success, bearing pride in its own rite. And what better achievement than to graduate from college? Ah yes, you go in as a punk kid and come out four years later an esteemed scholar, full of wisdom and intelect. Or not... 

Anyway, all of these wonderful thoughts are crossing my mind because I just came from a graduation today. My own, in fact. Well, not really, if you want to get down to the heart of things. I graduated 2 years ago... or so they thought. I actually lacked 3 credits before I earned my signed diploma. It took me 2 years of procrastination, almost 1,000 dollars, and the closing of my alma matter before I got around to ecking out that last class. But you know what they say, "Better late than never." Well, I'd have to agree, although I'm not quite sure I understand when people say they are "so proud of me." It's not like there's anything to be proud of. I narrowly escaped being a college drop-out, with only one class to my lacking. It took me two years to do what should have taken two months! How can one be proud of that?

And that leads me to the rest of my life... well, at least the last two years of it. Maybe that's where all my failures started--with a lack of follow-through. I didn't finish my degree, so I didn't go into my field of study. I didn't go into my field of study, so I just got any old job. I just got any old job, so I felt content to live in standy-by mode. I was content to live in standy-by mode, so I let my relationship with God slip away. My relationship with God slipped away, and so did my desire to do his will. Now look at me--"two years older, and three more steps behind" to quote the songwriter. Failure. Not accomplishment. 

As I drove home tonight from a graduation party for some of my friends, I flipped through the radio stations, finally landing on a Christian one. "You're enough, you're enough, you're enough for meeeeee!" she sang, over and over again. I sang along, as if to convince myself through repetition. Usually I hate it when artists sing the same thing over and over witihout dissimulation, but this time it felt like there was a purpose. And as I sang, I questioned myself, "Are you really enough, God? No, honestly. Are you REALLY enough for me?" I keep asking myself that very question again and again. I haven't come to believe it yet, but, Dios mediante, I will! 

It was as if every song were directed at me. Like these words, for instance, penned and transformed masterfully into a pensive melody by Tenth Avenue North (haha, you like how cheesily I wrote that?):
"Why are you looking for love? 
Why are you still searching as if I'm not enough? 
To where will you go, child, 
Tell me where will you run?
To where will you run?"
So anyway, they were good questions to ask myself. And although I keep asking them, I don't seem to come to any conclusions. I don't know why God doesn't seem like enough. I want more, I guess. But when I really stop to think, it seems like asking for more when I have the best part is really like keeping the waste left over from anything useful. For example, it's kind of like eating all the corn off the cob, but insisting on having the stalk, the leaves, the tassle and even the cob. Those things are good in their time, but when you don't need them, you simply don't need them. They just take up space and rot away. They could even become dangerous to your health. Well, that was a silly example, but I think you get my point. 

Hmmm... my thoughts are losing their cohesiveness, so I think I'll quit while I'm still ahead. I just hope that, in the end, this piece of signed paper turns out to be the beginning of the achievement that should have been started a long time ago. I guess that depends on me, right? Que Dios me de el querer y el poder de saber, y mas bien, cumplir su voluntad. 

Tuesday, May 19, 2009

summer love

I know that it is officially summer. I know this because I am laying in bed next to my open windowwith only a sheet to cover me . I can hear the sound of my neighbor's guitar pouring softly into my room from the roof of his apartment, where he often plays. Jordan, the neighbor never used to play guitar on the rooftop so much, but lately he does. Maybe he's in love. And why shouldn't he be? It's summer, after all, and even I am in love. In love with summer, that is. 

A couple walks by, quarrelling. Perhaps its not a real fight. You know, maybe just one of those "testing the waters" fights. I hear the girl say, "You get us an apartment, and maybe I will..." Their voices fade into the night. 

Thump, thump, thump, THUMP! I see Jordan's sneakers dissappear as he runs through the window into his home. I wonder why. Maybe he heard his phone ringing. I wish he would stay and serenade me until I fall asleep, but not only is that wishful thinking, its weird. Who wishes that their neighbor, whom they've only talked to twice, will serenade them into sweet slumber? Not many, I would venture.

Another sound fills, quite literally, my ears. Its the train. Our train is unmistakable. It is so loud sometimes, that it drowns out the TV. This is the conductor who I like. He only sounds the horn at intersections, main ones, I assume. There is another conductor to whom I want to do personal bodily harm every time he (or she, for that matter) passes through town. He actually holds down the horn for a good two minutes, making me want to tear him from limb to limb every time he comes. 

The sound of metal scraping loudly on metal ends and only the bell at the RR crossing just after the bridge remains now to remind me that the train has indeed been here. For all its faults, I like the train. I like the sounds it makes and the smell of the train tracks. I like walking alone or accompanied on the tracks, and although I must be too old, I like to balance on the rails. I'm pretty good at it, even if I do say so myself. 

A car drives by, somewhere, with the radio playing loudly and I have decided that its time to go to sleep. And as I blow out my scented candle and snuggle up, I thank God, I really do, for summer. It feels like an accomplishment to simply have arrived. Sometimes I think its amazing that I ever make it through the winter. Every year I promise myself I will move south, far away from here. But without winter maybe summer wouldn't be so sweet. Ah but who am I kidding? I love summer, and I'm not sure I would ever get bored of it. Summer love. Someday it will be my theme. We will marry and be together always, til death do us part. 
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